The Hollow
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: Jarred Hill, private investigator, is summoned to the quiet, desolate town called The Hollow on an assignment. But the longer he stays there, the more dark secrets he unveils, and someone doesn't want him to leave... AU. Multiple Pairings.
1. Chapter 1: The Hollow

**Title: **The Hollow  
**Author:** homesweethomicide13  
**Rating:** T for now  
**Pairing:** Eventual Jarda (also some Lief x Jasmine)  
**Warning:** Eventual Yaoi, slight horror, bad language  
**Disclaimer:** I own The Hollow, and any characters that are not in the books  
**Summary:** Jarred Hill, private investigator, is summoned to the quiet, desolate town called The Hollow on an assignment. But the longer he stays there, the more dark secrets he unveils, and someone doesn't want him to leave…

**The Hollow**

**Chapter One: The Hollow**

It was autumn – early autumn, when the trees were still turning that rich, golden colour and preparing to shed their leaves, and the sun, though still warm, was beyond the stage of burning exposed skin. It was still stifling hot inside vehicles, however, as Jarred Hill discovered as he sat alone on an old, rattling bus. The sun glared through the cheap plastic windows and scorched him through his sleek, smart black trousers and pale blue dress shirt. He tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, loosening his tie as he did so. He'd long ago swept his long dark hair up into a ponytail, allowing _any_ cool air to swirl freely around his neck. One hand rested on a smart black case on the seat beside him.

He'd been sat on this rickety bus for three hours now, and it was beginning to become unbearable. There had been others on the bus back when he'd gotten on, but they'd long ago departed at some of the stops along the way. It was just him and the driver now, who didn't speak at all except to complain about the terrible road, which Jarred assumed he did every time he drove along it.

He turned to stare out of the grimy window and sighed. All he could see for miles was open fields and plains, with the odd tree poking out here and there. It had been like this for a while. Where was civilization? It felt like he'd taken a trip into the past – if it weren't for the endless stretch of road and the occasional road sign, Jarred would have believed he _was_ in the past.

He spotted one of those rare road signs and glanced at it hopefully as his eyes caught a familiar word. There was the name of the place he was travelling to – and the sign announced proudly that it was only another two miles away. After spotting this sign, the driver pulled the bus to a halt. Jarred frowned and gripped the handle of his case tightly.

"Here's your stop, lad." The driver barked. Jarred stood up and walked to the front of the bus, ignoring the questionable stains on the floor and stepping around piles of dirt and something he did _not_ want to tread in.

"But it's another two miles, yet." Jarred said to him. Looking at the driver, Jarred assumed he wasn't quite all there in the head. He was balding, probably in his late forties, with a large gut and a rough, scratchy beard. A filthy red cap was balanced on the back of his head, and his white shirt had a great big coffee stain down the front. But it was his eyes that spoke of a mental problem. They were wide and bulging, pupils dilated heavily.

"This is as far as you go, lad." He spoke in a hoarse voice, as though he had a constant sore throat. "T'is as far to The Hollow as I go."

"Then how am I going to go the extra two miles?" Jarred asked irritably. The driver shrugged.

"Walk. I ain't going no further." In the back of his mind, Jarred was wondering why the driver refused to go any further, but he pushed the thought aside as he turned and stepped off the bus. He was actually glad to be off the clattering hulk. Another two miles on that old thing might've killed him. He watched the bus do a three-point turn (which seemed to Jarred more like a fifteen-point-turn), and clatter back the way they'd come. Clutching his case, Jarred turned and looked along the road he had to walk. It was an endless stretch of tarmac, bordered on both sides by open fields. There was no sign of any houses, or people. He could have been the only man on earth right there.

Easing his shoulders under the midday sun, he began to walk. It was easy at first – his legs were well rested from the journey here, and he was eager to get off the road and to find a place where there were other people around him. But after what he guessed was the first mile, his legs were beginning to tire and the sun was starting to get to him. He was sweating now, long streaks of it running off his forehead and down his nose. His case felt heavy in his hand, and he had to swap it over to his other hand often. He regretted wearing the smart trousers and smart shoes now. Then again, he'd believed that he would be taken right into the village he was due to visit.

When he at last saw a large sign ahead, he quickened his pace, and soon found himself staring at an old and worn sign.

"Welcome to The Hollow." He read aloud. "At last!" He smiled as he walked on, beneath a large wooden arch that bordered the entrance to the village. There wasn't a single soul in sight, which wiped the smile from Jarred's face. The place seemed deserted. "Oh you have got to be kidding me…" He murmured to himself.

"Who are you talking to?" The sudden voice caused Jarred to jump violently. He swung around and found himself face-to-face with a man about his age. What unnerved him was the fact that he hadn't heard this man approach, nor had he seen him anywhere before now. "Because you're not with anyone." Jarred took a step back and studied the man. Jarred was shorter than him, and although they were of similar build, this man looked stronger. He had shoulder-length black hair that framed a tanned face that could quite easily have been carved by angels, accentuated with two gleaming sapphire orbs settled beneath sleek dark brows, and resting above perfect, high cheekbones. Full, pale salmon lips parted in a smirk, flashing pearly white teeth for a brief second. "Do I interest you?" Jarred snapped out of his trance and busied himself with straightening out his shirt to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone to sneak up behind me." The other man laughed lightly.

"My apologies. It was not my intention to scare you." He held out a hand. "Welcome to The Hollow." Jarred shook his hand cautiously. "It is not often that we get visitors here."

"Well you are a bit out the way, and considering the bus stops two miles from here…" Jarred sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, almost sensing the sunburn he would no doubt receive.

"Oh, how rude of me. Would you like to come inside, out of the sun?" The man was gesturing at what appeared to be a tavern of some sorts, and Jarred shrugged, before nodding and following him inside. It was much cooler inside, and surprisingly empty.

"Where is everyone?" Jarred asked, not able to hold it back any longer.

"We try to stay inside when the sun is high in the sky." The man replied with an easy smile. "I am sure you can understand why. Even in winter, the sun can be unbearable here." He walked behind the bar and pulled two glasses out of a cupboard. "What can I get you?"

"Water. Just water." Jarred said, sitting down at the bar. "Do you own this place then?"

"Yes, I do. It's my family's tavern." He replied, pouring Jarred a glass of water and handing it to him. "Normally my brother would work the day shift but… he's not all… well, right now." He took a drink from his own water and smiled again. "So, what brings you to The Hollow?"

"I was asked to come here." Jarred explained to him. He opened his case and took out a card, which he passed to the man. "I'm a private investigator. I got a phone call last week on a Monday, about nine, asking me if I could come and take a look at the place. The guy said something was going on here." Jarred narrowed his eyes slightly. "Do you know anything about this?" The man's bright eyes had darkened a touch, and any trace of a smile was gone.

"Who called you?" He asked suddenly.

"I am afraid that information is confidential." Jarred stated professionally. Those blue eyes lifted and met his green ones.

"It cannot have been someone from this town, Mr Hill." The man growled.

"And why is that?" Jarred asked, confused.

"Because we do not have phones, here. We shy away from technology, choosing instead to live like our ancestors did. They were much happier without phones and computers, and so are we. That is why it cannot have been a villager that called you. There is nothing out of the ordinary here, I can assure you."

"I have to take a look around the village, Mr… ?"

"Leordo." The man told him. "My name is Barda Leordo."

"Jarred Hill, as you have read." Jarred nodded at the card in Barda's hand. "Whatever you say about technology, Mr Leordo, _someone_ called me, and told me to visit the room in the tower of the house on the hill. If you could direct me to this house, I will be grateful." He closed his case again and finished his water. To his surprise, Barda laughed.

"I am afraid you've been had, Mr Hill." He smiled. "I will show you to the house on the hill, and you can go and look at the room in the tower, but you will find nothing. That house has been empty for twenty years." Barda told him, still smiling.

"Why is that?" Jarred questioned.

"How about I let the house itself answer that one?" This time, the smile was eerie, and a shiver ran up Jarred's spine. He felt as though he were being watched – the trickle of nerves in the base of his spine had sparked up, and was running along the backs of his legs. "If you'd like to follow me, Mr Hill?" Barda walked towards the door they'd come in through, and Jarred stood up, ready to follow.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions after I've inspected the house, Mr Leordo?" Jarred asked, smoothing out the front of his shirt. Barda was holding the door open for him, and as he passed by, he looked Jarred up and down, a move which wasn't lost on the private investigator.

"I'd be glad to answer any questions." He _purred_ smoothly. Jarred felt the heat rise up around the back of his neck at the subtle tone in Barda's voice. A hand descended on his shoulder and a body pressed against his back. "But the answers come with a price."

"Mr Leordo." Jarred said sharply, quickly moving away from him. "I expect you to behave in a specifically professional manner whilst I am investigating your town." The smile on Barda's face did not fade, and he quickly closed the gap between them.

"And just how… deep… will you be _investigating?_" He murmured. The heat moved from Jarred's neck to his face, and he found he could not pull away from Barda. He was lost the moment he looked into those sapphire eyes, if only he'd known… Then, suddenly, Barda stepped back and tossed his mane of black hair out of his face. "I suppose we should start moving. The house is a touch out the way." And with that, he turned and began walking off. Jarred paused, confused and feeling slightly vulnerable, but quickly jogged to catch up with the strange tavern keeper.

* * *

Barda had been right when he said the house was out of the way. They'd walked the entire length of the town before Barda had mentioned they were about halfway there. Jarred had allowed himself to be led down a path through a thick wooded area – no doubt where the town got its name from – and was glad when the trees began to thin out and he was walking beneath the open sky once more. Before him lay a wide stretch of open land, the single dirt path leading up a small hill directly ahead. More trees bordered the hill, though none grew upon the hill itself. Sitting at the very top of the hill was a large, old-fashioned house, at least four or five storeys high, and complete with a rounded tower. Jarred did not need to question it – he knew this was the house he had been asked to inspect.

"There it is, Mr Hill. Hollow Hill Manor." Barda said to him. Jarred studied the house from where he was standing, and sighed inwardly. It was the sort of house you'd expect to read about in books, or see in horror movies. And it certainly looked empty.

"How long did you say it's been empty for?" Jarred asked Barda, hoping that it didn't seem like he was stalling – which is exactly what he was doing.

"Twenty years." Barda replied. "Christy, I must have only been about six years old when the last owners kicked the bucket." Jarred made a mental note of Barda's age, which was only four years his junior.

"They died?" Barda nodded. "How?"

"Nobody knows." A shrug came easily to the tavern-keeper. "All I know is that one day, this unusual storm came knocking on our door and focused upon the Manor, and then a week later, the gardener comes running down into the town yelling and screaming, saying that the owners are dead."

"Would I be able to speak to the gardener?" Jarred inquired. Barda laughed.

"You believe in those psychics, Mr Hill?" He asked suddenly. "You know, the ones that believe in spirits and such?"

"I haven't really given them much thought, why?"

"Cause you'll want to hire one if you want to speak to the gardener." Barda smirked, and once again Jarred felt a shiver run up his spine. "Cause Old Mickey's dead. He killed himself about three days after he came down from the Manor. Most people said it was from the shock and trauma of finding the dead bodies in the house."

"But you don't think so." Jarred stated, closely observing Barda's facial expressions. Another shrug.

"To be honest, I don't know what I think. As I said, I was only a boy when it happened. Could have been anything." He glanced up at the house on the hill once more. "You still want to take a look?" Jarred nodded.

"I have to." He responded. Barda smirked again.

"Then let's go." The climb up to the manor was a quiet one, both men focused on the path ahead, neither looking at the house that was slowly coming closer and closer. It was only when the path finally evened out that Jarred looked up. The house was much more intimidating once you were right beside it – the blank, dark windows stared down upon you like the eyes of some unknown predator, lying in wait for some unsuspecting victim to crawl by. "Spooky, isn't it?" The sound of Barda's voice breaking the silence caused Jarred to jump. He turned around and discovered that Barda had somehow managed to go from being beside him, to being right behind him, without making any noise.

"It's just a house." Jarred said firmly, though it was more to remind himself than anything else. Determined not to show any fear, he turned and marched up to the front door, Barda in tow. "Is it locked?" He asked absentmindedly. There was no reply from Barda, so Jarred put a hand on the door handle and pushed it down. The door opened easily and without sound, which unnerved Jarred. He would have preferred it to have creaked even a little. The house had been empty for two decades, surely there would be signs of that?

He stepped into the house and looked around. It wasn't well-lit, due to the fact that the only light was coming from the open doorway. A large staircase rose up into the darkness directly ahead, and was lost to sight above the first floor level. Jarred became aware that Barda had not spoken in a while and he turned to face him, and discovered that the tavern-keeper was still standing outside.

"Not coming in?" He called to him. Barda shook his head.

"I'll wait here. I guess growing up with stories of this house tends to come back to you at times like this. You go on ahead, do your investigating. I'll not step foot in that house." Jarred was mildly surprised, but he shrugged it off. Houses that have been empty for twenty years were usually the source of horrific stories passed down through families in towns like this, especially if mysterious, unknown deaths were involved.

"Alright. How do I get to the tower?"

"Take the left-hand door in the living room. You'll find the spiral stairs that will take you to the only room in the tower." Barda explained. Jarred didn't think to question how he knew where to go if he'd never been inside the house before. He walked to one side of the hallway and peered through an archway set into the wall. From the dusty chairs and sofas, he guessed this was the living room. He wandered through it, not really paying attention to details, and found the left-hand door. Opening it, he walked into a rounded room, in which he found the spiral staircase.

It was terribly cold in there, which confused Jarred considering the outside air was warm, as was the rest of the house. Shrugging it off, he began to climb the spiral staircase. He was exhausted by the time he reached the top, and he fell against the wall for a moment while he caught his breath. There was a wooden door beside him, which he guessed led into the single room. Pushing at it, he frowned when it wouldn't open.

"Don't tell me it's locked?" He sighed. He tried the handle again, but to no avail. Frustration kicking in, he pushed at it with his shoulder, before turning and giving it a good kick where the catch was. He smiled when it trembled and swung open. He stepped into the room and discovered a small set of steps that led up to the main floor. The room was incredibly dark – the single window had been boarded shut, and so no light could reach the small, round room. Cursing his luck, Jarred crouched down and fumbled in his case for a torch. Finding one and switching it on, he closed the door and walked up the steps into the room. He shone the torch around him, searching for anything that would give him any idea why he had been called here. There was nothing in the room at all – it was completely empty. Sighing in frustration, he shone the torch over the floor and frowned when the beam caught a patch of what looked like chalk. He crouched onto the floor and touched his fingers to the chalky substance.

The moment his fingertips touched the chalk, an image flashed into his head. It was the tower room, but fully-lit and not so empty. A man and a woman were stood in the center of the room, both of them with their hands on a strange, round object between them. Their heads were tilted back and they were staring at the ceiling in horror, before something rained down upon them and they dropped to the floor, horribly dead. Then the image was gone.

Jarred jerked his hand away from the chalk and shone the torch over the floor around it, searching. It was as he'd predicated. The chalk was part of an outline – the outline of two bodies, sprawled on the floor. This was where the owners had died. He suddenly remembered the image in his head and he turned the torch beam upwards, craning his neck to see the ceiling. What he saw there caused him to leap backwards, forgetting about the steps, and he tumbled down them, cracking his head on the floor. Dark, menacing laughter was the last thing he heard before he blacked out completely.

_Author's Note: This is just something I wanted to try and write. It's AU, of course, and is set in Australia (since I found out the town of Broome is actually a town in Australia, I can't get the image of an Australian Barda out of my head). The Lief x Jasmine will come into the story in a few chapters, I promise. I'm also trying to fit in the other main characters, but I pretty much have things sorted so... we'll see. For those of you who like this story and would like to see more, please bear in mind that I have many, many other stories, most of which need finishing (like The Demons of 186), so updates might not be too frequent. Sorry. Please send a review though, they are greatly appreciated. :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Stranded

**Chapter Two: Stranded**

Jarred opened his eyes and groaned when a stab of pain struck him sharply. His vision was blurred but he could make out the shape of the steps he had fallen down. Closing his eyes and hissing in pain, he touched a hand to the back of his head and flinched. How long had he been out? He remembered what had made him fall, and he bolted upright, ignoring the pain that followed the action. He had to get out. He found his torch and cursed when he saw that the battery had run out. Shoving it back into his case, he picked himself up and fumbled for the door handle. Finally finding it, he wrenched the door open and bolted down the stairs as fast as he could. He soon reached the bottom and was about to open the door to the living room when a small sound caused him to freeze.

It was a simple click, the kind you'd hear when locking a door, but due to the emptiness of the room, it bounced off the walls and sounded ten times louder. There was another sound, indescribable, and Jarred's blood ran cold when he realized it was coming from behind him.

"You're in a hurry." He spun around, case in the air ready to strike, but he froze when he caught the familiar sapphire gaze of Barda.

"Do you _like_ sneaking up on people and scaring the shit out of them?" Jarred barked angrily. As his initial shock dulled, he realized that a small, orange glow came from the darkness around Barda's mouth. Barda lifted a hand and the glow went with it, before he exhaled. Smoke filtered around Jarred's face, and realization hit him. It was a cigarette. The click he'd heard had been the lighter. The sound that had followed had been Barda moving towards him.

"Sorry. I wasn't exactly expecting you to come bolting down the stairs like that, either." Barda replied coolly. He took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "What's wrong? Something happen up there?" Jarred went to answer, when something came back to him.

"Wait a second… you said you'd never step foot in this house." His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Barda just smirked – or, at least, that's what Jarred thought he did. It was so dark it was hard to tell – when had it gotten this dark?

"I wouldn't. But you were up there so long I had to check if you were okay. What were you doing up there anyway?" Barda frowned, but still remained smirking. "Or am I not allowed to ask?"

"How long was I up there?" Jarred asked, nervous about how long he'd been in that room.

"Well, let's put it this way… the sun set about an hour ago." Barda stepped closer, and Jarred could feel the heat from the burning cigarette. Jarred's head was pounding now, and a wave of dizziness came over him. He swayed dangerously, and without thinking, reached out to grab the nearest solid object – which just so happened to be Barda. "Hey, whoa… are you okay?"

"Yeah… no… I don't know." Jarred murmured. "I fell… hit my head…"

"Right. That would explain a lot." Barda sighed. "Come on, you've gotta lie down somewhere and get yourself checked out for any damage." He slung Jarred's arm around his shoulder, and held the investigator up with an arm around his waist. He balanced the cigarette between his lips, aiming the tip away from him so the smoke didn't go into his eyes. "Just don't pass out on me, cause I ain't carrying you." With Barda's help, Jarred managed to walk out of the house and down the hill towards the small forest. Barda tossed the cigarette aside when it was finished, and shifted Jarred's weight slightly. "Christy, how much do you weigh?" He complained. Jarred rolled his eyes.

"It's not so much what I weigh. I'm almost a dead weight right now, alright? Now can we hurry up, I really don't wanna be in the dark forest for very long."

"Why? I'm right here with you."

"That's why I wanna get out of here quickly." Jarred shot back with a smirk. Barda laughed slightly.

"If I had a dollar for every time someone has said something like that to me, I'd be a very rich man." Nothing more was said for a while, as both men were focused on walking without falling over in the darkness. And with Jarred's added weight, it wasn't easy. "Are you sure you can't walk by yourself?" Barda said at last. Jarred stopped and allowed Barda to remove his arm from around his shoulders.

"I can bloody well try." Jarred was slightly thankful that Barda had spoken. The silence had been almost unbearable. "Listen… Mr Leordo… I have to leave."

"What? Why? You just got here." Barda frowned. Jarred was freakishly pale, and he looked spooked.

"When I was up in the tower… I think I witnessed how the owners died… and then, I looked up at the ceiling and there was… this writing…" He was shaking now. "It was written in some thick, dark-coloured substance and… it said… 'Leave, Jarred, leave'." Barda stared at him in surprise, and then quickly took Jarred by the hand and began pulling him out of the forest. "Mr Leordo?"

"Don't speak. Don't say a word. Just move." They were practically running by the time they reached the town. Before the entered it, Barda stopped and turned to face Jarred. "Do not tell anyone what you saw. It could have been your mind playing tricks on you, it could have been real, but whatever it was, I don't want the village spooked. The stories about that house are bad enough as it is, without some new horror turning up in that bloody room." Barda was speaking quickly, in a hushed voice.

"That's not it though." Jarred said quietly. "Before I blacked out, I heard something… it sounded like someone laughing." Barda sighed.

"We will speak more of it in the morning, until then-,"

"No! I must leave tonight." Jarred insisted. "I have to go home. Now." Barda sighed again.

"You can't, Jarred." He said quietly. "There isn't another bus for another two days. Surely you knew that?"

"What? I'm stuck here?" Jarred was panicking now. "Then I'll walk!"

"Walk? The nearest town is miles away. You should know for yourself, the bus stop is two miles from here, and it's almost an hour's ride to the town."

"I don't care! I have to leave!" Jarred was working up hysteria now.

"Calm yourself down." Barda snapped. "Christy, you're certainly spooked. Listen, I have a spare room in the tavern that you can use. Sleep on it, and we'll discuss it further in the morning, okay?" Defeated, Jarred nodded. Barda led him back into the village quickly, and Jarred noticed that the village seemed more populated than it had earlier. People stared as he was led back to the tavern. Jarred was thankful when Barda led him down to the back entrance of the tavern. "Now, be extra quiet when we go through here. As I said before, my brother isn't all that well at the moment and I try not to disturb him." Jarred nodded, still unsure about staying in the small village overnight. Still, if the bus didn't return for another two days, what choice did he have? He doubted that this place had any cars to hire.

He followed Barda through the back door, being extra careful to tread lightly. He was led up some old, wooden stairs that creaked quietly under their weight. It hit Jarred that although the manor looked to have been built around the same time as this tavern, the house didn't show any signs of its age – the stairs to the tower hadn't creaked once, for instance. Something was definitely amiss in that house, and if he was completely honest, he didn't want to stick around to find out what.

As he was led through the tavern, Jarred mused over the phone call he'd received. He had certainly been shocked when his secretary had buzzed through to tell him he had a possible client on the phone. He'd only just started work when the call had come through, and he received a bigger shock when he was informed that the client was in Australia. Being a British firm, it was very unusual for this to happen.

All the right details had been given to him over the phone, and the caller had promised to double the usual fee if he so chose to go and investigate, and would triple it if he found anything and solved the case. Jarred didn't work for money at all, only for his own interest, but when someone is that desperate, and willing to pay that much, he couldn't refuse. Besides, he needed a nice long holiday, and Australia was perfect in the autumn. And, of course, the case sounded interesting. It had taken him a while to locate the village on any map, and was pleasantly surprised to find it resided in the barren outback of Australia. It was quite a way from any major city, but he resolved that it would be a quaint little place, full of friendly villagers.

Jarred eyed Barda's back warily. He was the only villager he'd met so far, and although Barda hadn't exactly been hostile, could you call his personality 'friendly'? The tavern-keeper was a little strange, if anything, and Jarred felt an uneasy nervousness around him, despite his charming smile. The village was certainly quaint, however.

"Here we are." Barda murmured, opening an old wooden door and walking into the room beyond. Jarred followed, taking in the room as he did wherever he went. It was a pleasant room, painted a light shade of blue and white. The hardwood floor had also been painted white, as had any other woodwork. The single bed was small and low to the floor, with a mattress that looked like it had seen better days. A worn, wicker chair sat by the window. A faded blue rug was spread beside the bed, resting in front of a small bedside table, on which rested a very old-fashioned lamp. A single painting hung on the wall the bed was pushed against – a lovely little scene of two boys playing in a field whilst an older man looked on with pride. The signature at the bottom was hard to make out, but judging from the battered wooden frame, it wasn't anyone particularly famous. "Now, get a good night's sleep and try not to think too much about the house, alright?"

"Okay." Jarred said, simply because he hadn't spoken in a while and he felt the need to. Barda turned to leave. "Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Um… I, well…" Jarred felt his face flush. "Where will you be? You know, in case I need something?" He felt stupid to ask, but Barda was the only villager he knew.

"Oh, well I have to go take a shift in the tavern downstairs, but I'll be up sometime soon. My room is just next door." Barda eyed the lamp. "You want that lit?" Jarred paused, before nodding. "I'll send Dakota up when I go down to the tavern. She's my assistant, works here every night, bless her. Without her I'd be swamped." He smiled easily. "Well, goodnight."

"Yeah." But Jarred severely doubted his night would be good. He waited for Barda to leave the room before he set his case down on the bed. Sighing, he crossed to the small window on the far wall and looked out into the night. People wandered around on the street down below – mostly young adults or teenagers, talking happily in groups of three to five. He heard footsteps on the hall behind him and turned as a young woman knocked on the open bedroom door.

She looked to be about the same age as Barda, with long blonde hair that reached her waist, tied back in a ponytail that appeared to be more on the side than at the back. Her eyes were startling green, enhanced by the light green eye-shadow she wore. She was dressed in a white shirt that was tied in a knot above her navel, the two top buttons undone, and knee-length black shorts. Her legs were long, slim and tanned, and she wore black, heeled shoes on her feet. In one hand she carried a pitcher of water; in the other she carried a box of matches and a tall glass. He assumed this was Dakota.

"You must be Mr Hill." She grinned. Her voice sang of Australia, just like Barda's did. "Dakota Grange. Barda said you wanted a lamp lightin'."

"Um, yes, please." He watched as she put the pitcher of water down on the bedside table, placing the glass beside it. She lifted up the lamp and struck a match.

"Brought you some water, too, in case you want a drink in the night." She lit the lamp, which sent long shadows stretching out over the room. He smiled; she seemed thoughtful.

"Thank you." He replied. She regarded him curiously for a moment.

"Pardon me for asking, but where are you from?" She asked. "Barda didn't mention."

"He didn't ask." Jarred grinned. "I'm from merry old England." Dakota laughed lightly.

"I thought so, but I'm not one to make assumptions." She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder. "Well, I'd best get back to the bar. Still gotta work my shift." She sent him another smile. "Enjoy your stay, Mr Hill." When he smiled and nodded once in reply, she turned and left the room. He listened to her footsteps as she walked down to the main tavern.

"Enjoy my stay?" He sighed, walking to the door and closing it. "I wish I could." He stalked back to the window and closed the thin curtains, shutting out the night. Deciding that sleep was the only thing good for him, he removed his shirt and tie and placed them on the wicker chair, his trousers following shortly. Going to the bed, he opened his case and pulled out a plain white t-shirt that he used to sleep in. Once he'd pulled it on, he set the case down at the end of the bed and climbed in.

It was more comfortable than he'd imagined, but he'd have preferred the comfort of his own double bed back at home. The sheets weren't that thick, and he felt cold air on his feet. But, he supposed, Australian nights were warmer than English ones, and no doubt he'd be glad of the thin sheets later that night. He stared at the ceiling for a while, before the memory of blood-written words came back to him, and he abruptly turned onto his side. The lamplight flickered gently, and as he gazed at it, he found himself slipping into a steady slumber.

Almost instantly, he was dreaming. He was back in that room in the manor tower, although this time he was standing in the center, facing a faceless woman. He realized he was touching something, and looked down, focusing on the smooth object beneath his hands. He tried to look down, but his eyes were focused on the blur of the woman's face – he knew it was a woman because of her figure. He was aware of a strange droning noise and he realized the woman was muttering under her breath. Suddenly, she let out a high-pitched scream and her head jerked backwards so that she was staring up at the sky. A second later, his head did the same thing, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the tower room. At first, there was nothing there, and then it abruptly caught fire, pieces of it dropping down towards the floor.

"Come to us, Master!" The woman shrieked. Then the entire roof caved in and the fire fell with it, dropping onto him and the woman. His body began to burn, and searing pain filled his entire body. He let of whatever he was holding and fell to the floor, trying to put the fire out by rolling over the floorboards. But the fire wouldn't stop, and he lifted a hand, watching the fire burn away his flesh until he could see pure, white bone…

"Jarred!" Jarred's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, his breathing coming in short, harsh pants. His entire body was filmed over with a cold sweat. He instantly lifted his hand and ran his fingers over it, inspecting it closely. There were no burns, and it seemed to be in one piece. "Jarred, it's okay… you were dreaming." He became aware that someone was standing beside the bed and he turned to look. Barda stood there, looking concerned. He was dressed only in a black tank top and boxer shorts. A second lamp rested on the table, the first one having gone out during the time he was asleep. "What's wrong?" Jarred's eyes fell upon the water and he realized how parched his throat was. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Seeming to understand, Barda poured him a glass of water. Once he'd downed it all in one, he cleared his throat.

"It was… so real…" He murmured. "I felt the pain… saw it all burn…" Barda sat down beside him on the bed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It was all in your head, Jarred. You're fine. It was just a dream." Having Barda beside him seemed to calm his nerves, and he smiled slightly.

"Yeah. I guess it was." He realized how stupid he must have looked right then, and blushed. "I feel stupid now."

"What? Why?" Barda asked, frowning slightly. "Because you had a nightmare? Don't think like that. Adults get nightmares too, you know. Nothing to feel stupid about." There was a gentle smile on Barda's face, and Jarred relaxed completely. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am." He lay back with a sigh and put a hand to his head. "What time is it?" Barda smiled.

"Three in the morning." He stifled a yawn. "I was asleep. I woke up when you started screaming in pain. I thought you'd done yourself some serious harm." Jarred felt a pang of guilt at rousing Barda from what could have been a well-earned sleep.

"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly. Barda's smile faded and he leant in to Jarred's face.

"Don't be." He murmured. Jarred became very aware of the closeness between them and he blushed again. What was it with this man? He hadn't felt like this since middle school when he'd had that crush on Sophie Winters…

"Barda?" There was a battle raging inside of him – one half wanted to push Barda away and tell him to leave, but the other half wanted to tug him forward and stay with him all night. So far, neither side was winning. His heartbeat quickened as Barda lowered his head, his breathing hitched slightly as Barda's lips pressed against his neck, so lightly it didn't feel real. The heat was rising in the room. Jarred felt himself leaning into Barda's touch, one hand snaking around to his back. Barda's lips travelled higher, reaching his jaw…

_SMASH!_

Both men sprung apart when the glass in Jarred's hand exploded. They gazed down at the fragments before Jarred realized his hand was burning with pain. He looked at his hand as droplets of crimson liquid began to form in long, wicked cuts.

"Shit!" He swore loudly and shook his hand free of any loose glass. Barda yanked Jarred's arm forward and inspected his hand.

"Blimey, that's a fucker." He sighed. "Looks like there's some glass in that big 'un." He brought Jarred's hand closer and – to Jarred's shock – licked the biggest wound clean. Then he inspected it some more. "Alright. This is probably gonna hurt." He licked away the blood that had begun to ooze out again and suddenly latched his teeth onto the glass embedded within. Then, with a sharp tug, it came free.

"Fuck." Jarred hissed. Barda spat out the glass into his hand and wiped the back of his other hand over his mouth. Jarred glanced at him and he swallowed hard when he caught sight of the blood remaining on Barda's lips. "That did hurt." He muttered.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Watch your step though, there's glass everywhere." As Barda picked up the lamp to light their way, Jarred climbed out of bed, examining each patch of floor carefully. What confused him, however, was how it had happened. What had made the glass shatter?

He intended to find out.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know, I know, bit early on for intimacy, but it's all part of the plot, trust me. Things will be explained on the way!_


	3. Chapter 3: Levi

**Chapter 3: Levi**

Jarred awoke to the sound of someone running down the stairs outside, and he yawned widely. He lifted his injured hand and stared hard at the white bandage wrapped around his palm. A few pinkish spots had appeared on the surface. Barda had cleared up the room, too. There was no more glass littering the floor beside the bed, but Jarred had left his boots there, just in case. Yawning again, he threw back the bed sheets and swung his legs out of bed, slipping into his boots with ease. He walked over to his case and pulled out a simple dark green t-shirt and blue jeans, slipping out of his boots before he changed.

He wandered out of the room and looked out across the hall, wondering where the bathroom was. He vaguely remembered Barda telling him that his room was right next door, so he knew it wasn't there. He walked quietly along the wooden floor, wincing at the dull sounds his boots made. He pushed at the next door along and found it locked. It was probably a cupboard or something. Moving to the next door, he pushed it open and discovered the young woman from the night before, Dakota.

"Oh, sorry." Jarred murmured. She had been making one of the single beds in the room, and she straightened up to smile at him.

"No worries. You looking for something?" She asked, smoothing out the front of her pale pink shirt.

"Uh, yeah, actually. The bathroom." She grinned.

"Well that's all the way down in the garden, mate." The horror on Jarred's face must have shown brilliantly, for she burst out laughing. "I'm only messing with ya. It's the next door along." Relief flooded through him as he turned away from her. Why did he have to be so gullible? "Oh and by the by, breakfast will be served in about ten minutes. Take a left at the bottom of the stairs."

"Thanks." He walked into the bathroom and raised his eyebrows. If this town didn't like technology, why did they have showers? Dismissing it, he closed the door. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored cabinet and sighed. He looked a mess. His hair was in disarray, and his eyes were dull from exhaustion. He swore under his breath when he realized he'd left his toiletries in his room. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind…" He opened the cabinet, intending to look for a comb or something to sort out his hair with. He found one instantly, but as he was reaching for it, his eyes caught something on the shelf above. It was a small bottle of pills, seemingly innocent, still half-full of small, white capsules. But Jarred recognized the bottle.

He picked it up and stared hard at the label. Who needed anti-depressants? Was it Barda's sick brother, or Barda himself? He shrugged and went to put the bottle back, when he noticed several other pill-bottles on the same shelf, which had been hidden behind the one in his hand. Frowning now, he pulled them out one at a time, reading the labels on every one. There were more anti-depressants, vicodin pills, and many other drugs that had questions running through Jarred's head. Who used all of these? And why? Feeling as though he was intruding on someone's private life, he put the bottles back and went to close the cabinet door. He'd just go and get his own things. He looked up as he closed the mirrored door and jumped violently when he saw Barda's face in the mirror. He spun around to face him, still shaken up.

"Do you enjoy looking through other people's things?" There was no smile on Barda's face this time.

"I'm sorry… I was just…" Somehow Jarred knew that nothing he could say would make any difference to what Barda was thinking. And so, he changed the direction of the conversation. "Who needs all those pills? The name on them only said Leordo…"

"My brother and I suffer from a tragic loss that happened a long time ago. Now he is sick." Barda sighed. "And I often get severe headaches." Jarred frowned slightly. Surely they wouldn't need so many pills for that?

"Mr Leordo… just _how_ sick is your brother?" Now the smile returned, eerie and almost menacing.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." That said, he turned and left the bathroom. Jarred sank against the wall and closed his eyes. He was going to have to remember to lock doors from now on.

* * *

Jarred, now freshened up and looking a little less haggard, took a left at the bottom of the wooden stairs and walked through a partially open doorway into a homely looking dining room. Dakota had just disappeared through a door on the opposite end of the room, and Jarred glanced around the room, his eyes finally meeting those of a small boy. The child was sat at the table, head turned towards the doorway. There was no surprise in the boy's emerald gaze, only moderate fascination. He had a full head of silky black hair, the fringe casually flopping down over his forehead, almost in his eyes. Jarred felt a little uneasy under the boy's stare, and he was trying to remember where he'd seen such a stare before.

The door at the other end of the room opened and a familiar, blue-eyed man walked out, eyes locking with Jarred's instantly. And that's when it hit him. This small child had the same piercing, unusual stare as Barda.

"Ah, I see you've met Levi." Barda murmured. His attitude had changed severely since the incident in the bathroom, and it was almost as if he'd forgotten about it. Now he was back to normal. "Say hello, Levi." The boy cocked his head to one side and smiled in the same eerie way that Barda did.

"Hello." His voice was young and high, but still held the music of Australia within it.

"H-hi." Jarred replied nervously. Barda laughed lightly.

"Don't let Levi unnerve you, Mr Hill. He's a lovely child, really." He walked over and led Jarred to the seat opposite Levi. "Sit, sit. Dakota will be out shortly with breakfast." Jarred sat down, trying to ignore the unending stare of Levi. Barda sat down beside him, and after a moment, laughed once again. "Levi, kid, cut it out. How many times have I told you, it's rude to stare."

"But he has eyes like mine." Barda smiled as he glanced at Jarred's green eyes.

"Yes, he does. So does your mother, but you don't stare at her." Barda chided, and Levi finally lowered his eyes. "Sorry about him." He murmured to Jarred.

"It's okay." Jarred replied, smiling. "Who is his mother then?" He had suspicions, but he wanted to make sure before he said anything.

"Dakota, of course." Barda told him. "Six years ago, she had him. Came as a shock to us all, really. Weren't expecting it, none of us. Least of all, me." Barda laughed slightly. "Still, he's a good kid. Takes after his dad a little too much though, I'd say." Jarred frowned.

"Who's the father?" Barda smirked.

"You're the private investigator. You figure it out." He winked. Jarred lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject. A few seconds later, Dakota walked out of the other room with two plates in her hands, followed by a young-looking blonde man, who was also carrying plates – although he had three. "Ah, Mr Hill, this is Nikolai, Dakota's brother and the chef here at the tavern." Nikolai grinned at Jarred as he put a plate of hot food down in front of him.

"Dakota told me you were English, so I made a Full English for you." He said, gesturing at the breakfast. Jarred smiled.

"Thank you." He and Dakota took their places at the table, Dakota beside her son, and Nikolai at one end of the table. Jarred cast a glance at the other end, where an empty place remained. Barda followed his gaze and sighed.

"My brother cannot join us anymore." He explained. "That was always his place. Mine is normally where Nikolai sits, but… I felt like a change this morning." Jarred guessed that this 'change' had something to do with the heated incident last night. He felt eyes upon him and glanced at Levi, who was regarding him with curiosity.

"Levi, darling, don't stare at Mr Hill." Dakota said softly. "Eat your breakfast like a good little boy." The six year old continued to stare. Barda frowned slightly.

"Levi." He barked. The tone had Levi averting his eyes instantly. Jarred observed this with interest. The child wouldn't listen to his mother, but would obey a simple word from Barda. "So, Mr Hill, how are you enjoying your stay?" Barda asked him, changing the subject. Jarred almost laughed, but he knew Barda was merely putting on an act for the others.

"Well, since I've only been here a day I don't really have enough experience for an honest opinion, but so far it has been…" What could he say? That it was terrifying and he wanted to go home? That would go down well. "…Interesting." He said finally. "Oh, and please, call me Jarred."

"Well then, Jarred," Dakota smiled, "what are your plans for the day? Barda mentioned you were here to investigate the manor." Casting a glance at Barda, who was smiling almost innocently, he shrugged slightly.

"I was hoping to conduct a few interviews with the residents of this village, perhaps take note of their memories of what happened up there. I'll need information on the owners, too." He explained. Nikolai smirked.

"You won't find any good words for them, I'm afraid." He sighed. "The people here never liked them."

"Still, it will help in the investigation." He still longed to leave the village, but since the next bus wasn't for another day or so, he didn't really have any choice but to continue with the investigation he was being paid for. The topic changed and casual conversation saw them through to the end of breakfast.

"Jarred," Just hearing Barda say his name sent a shiver up Jarred's spine. It came out smooth and silky, almost like a purr. He turned to look at Barda. "May I have a word, outside?" Jarred nodded, and followed him out of the dining room. He was very much aware that Levi was staring at his retreating back. Barda turned to him once they were out of earshot of the others, and the smile vanished into a serious expression.

"Is something wrong?" Jarred questioned quietly.

"Jarred, I want you to know that… well… if you ever want to go near that house again, you have to come and tell me, and I will go with you." Jarred's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "After last night, I don't want you going out of this village alone. Christ knows what could have happened to you if I hadn't have been waiting outside. If no one knows where you are, then anything could become of you and we might not find you until…" _Until it is too late…_ Barda thought, but he didn't want to say it aloud. Jarred smiled gently.

"Thanks. I appreciate your concern, Mr Leordo." Now it was Barda's turn to smile.

"Call me Barda."

"Alright, Barda." Jarred loved how the name rolled off his tongue so elegantly. "In fact… I _did_ want to go up to the house this afternoon. I want to take a look around the rest of the manor, just for an overall observation. Could be whatever is going on in the tower can be explained by some fault in the rest of the house, some structural problem or loose foundations. Even loose pipes or dripping water can create the strangest apparitions." He almost smirked at the look on Barda's face. "I know, I know, it sounds a little strange, but eight out of ten hauntings or unusual phenomena are created by natural causes."

"What about the other two?" Barda questioned. Jarred sighed.

"Sometimes, nothing can explain the hauntings." He replied quietly. "But I assure you, Barda, I have a very high success rate. I haven't been involved with the paranormal for very long – I tend to stick to normal investigations – but the few times I've been called out for something like this, I've been able to prove a natural cause."

"So you don't believe in ghosts? Spirits from the other side?" Jarred ignored the hint of amusement in Barda's voice. He paused before answering, trying to pick his words carefully.

"In my experience, I can't say I've ever come across a ghost or spirit before, so it's hard for me to say. If there are such things, I'd like to believe that they are only apparitions, electro-magnetic images brought on from the imprints of memories." He caught Barda's confused expression and smiled. "What I mean is, if something terrible happened in a particular place, then the memory of that event would be forever held within that area, and someone entering that place would pick up on the memory and their mind would form the apparitions that would appear to be the hauntings. Sometimes it is even formed by telepathic visions, where a person's mind links with the memory to form the ghost or spirit." He smiled lightly. "I guess in that sense, they do exist, but they are not what most people believe them to be."

"Has your mind not changed after what happened to you in the tower?" Barda asked curiously. Jarred sighed again.

"Like I said, something terrible happened up there, and my mind picked up on the memory held within the walls, and created a telepathic vision. That's all it was." And so he'd been trying to convince himself ever since he got back to the village, with little luck.

"And the writing on the ceiling?"

"My mind playing tricks on me. I'd received a shock, and I expected to see something there after the vision I received." Barda didn't look convinced. Jarred didn't blame him – he didn't believe it himself. "Look, I need to know who was about when the owners died, so I can ask them a few questions."

"Sure. I'll come with you." Barda smiled.

"That won't be necessary, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do here." Jarred gestured at the tavern, but Barda shook his head.

"You're a stranger to the village. People will talk more easily if someone they know and trust is with you, and the whole village looks to me for trust. It will make things much easier." He shrugged. "Besides, Dakota can handle the tavern." Jarred wanted to argue – after all, this investigation was confidential – but found he couldn't. Despite the tavern-keeper's strange ways, he felt safer around him after last night.

"Alright. But you have to stay out of it as much as possible." Jarred told him. "I can't have you getting in the way." The grin that formed on Barda's face was a touch amused, and cheeky.

"You got it." Jarred simply rolled his eyes and walked past him to get to the stairs. As he began to climb them, he wondered how he'd become so calm and relaxed around him, especially after being so edgy around him the day before. Shrugging it off, he collected his case from his room. When he turned to leave the room, however, Barda was standing in the doorway.

"Okay, how do you do that?" Jarred blurted out without thinking. Barda simply smirked and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked closer, Jarred took a step back. "What are you doing?" Barda didn't respond until he was inches from Jarred's face.

"Finishing last night." He murmured. Jarred took another step back, still unsure. Barda frowned slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I barely know you." Jarred whispered. Barda smirked.

"So?" With every step backwards Jarred took, Barda took one forward.

"I'm in a strange village." Jarred murmured as Barda came closer. He went to take another step back, but found that he was up against the wall. Barda stepped forward, their bodies touching now. Jarred's green eyes met Barda's and he sighed. "I'm running out of excuses." He said with a slight smile. Barda returned the smile and tilted his head slightly. Jarred closed his eyes, and waited for the kiss he knew was coming. He could feel Barda's breath on his face, knew that any second, lips would be upon his. And the strange thing was, he actually _wanted_ Barda to kiss him. His hands, which were hanging limp at his sides, began to rise up towards Barda's body. Another second passed, and Jarred began to feel uneasy again. He opened his eyes and found Barda wasn't even looking at him. He had turned away, and was looking towards the door.

Jarred followed his gaze and saw that the door – which he distinctly remembered Barda closing – was wide open, and Levi stood in the doorway, deep green eyes staring at the two of them. Jarred hadn't even heard him come up the stairs.

"Levi, what have I told you about doing that?" Barda asked the boy calmly, but there was authority in his voice. "It's very invasive." Levi cocked his head to one side and regarded Barda with cold eyes.

"You do it." He said simply. Barda frowned and walked over to the young boy, kneeling down in front of him.

"Go out and play, Levi." He commanded. Levi went to walk away, but Barda caught him by the arm and tugged him back to face him. "And don't disturb your uncle." Levi shrugged one shoulder carelessly and tugged his arm free. "I mean it, kid. You know the price of disturbing him." Jarred watched the interaction with interest. Levi nodded and Barda let him walk away.

"He's an unusual child." Jarred thought aloud. Barda straightened up and turned to him.

"Like I said, he takes after his father a little too much." Barda smiled slightly. "We should probably get going. I know of a woman who could tell you quite a bit about the owners of Hollow Hill Manor." Jarred felt surprisingly disappointed that the intimate moment between them had passed. Once again, Barda seemed to have forgotten about it.

"Right, yeah." He crossed the room to the door. As he passed Barda, teeth nipped gently at his neck and he hid a smirk as he left the room. Maybe he hadn't forgotten, after all. Barda followed him down the stairs and then led him outside, through the back once more. "So, tell me about this woman."

"She's a friend of the family." Barda smiled. "I've known her for a long time. She used to help…" Barda suddenly trailed off and went quiet. His eyes were downcast, and Jarred could see a hint of sadness in them. "She used to help my mother around the house." He finished quietly. Jarred could sense that the topic was a hard one for Barda, and so he set himself in business mode.

"Well, you said she could tell me about the manor?" He questioned. Barda sighed.

"Yes, she can. You see, she used to work up there before she came to our house. She was a maid, cleaned up the house and such. She's probably the only living servant left. The rest of them all died within a week of the owners' death." Barda explained. "She didn't like the manor, and so she quit her job after only a few days. I suppose it was a good thing, otherwise she might be dead too."

"You think the deaths are all connected to what happened in the tower?" Jarred frowned slightly, thinking he should probably get out his notebook to write this all down.

"Well, let's put it this way." Barda smiled grimly. "A strange storm arrives here, and then the owners of the manor die. For seven days after their deaths, each and every servant – be they maid, cook or gardener – was found dead. You work out the math." Jarred felt a chill run up his spine. What was it he was dealing with here?

"How did they all die?" Why was he asking? He told himself it was for the investigation, but he knew he was just curious. And concerned.

"Fire." Barda told him. Jarred's blood ran cold. "They somehow killed themselves by fire. Some lit their fires and threw themselves into them; others simply struck a match, doused themselves in oil and set themselves alight." Barda grimaced. "Worst way to die, in my opinion. To think, your flesh is burning off and you're still awake, still alive… and you can feel yourself burning…" Jarred's palms were sweating now, and fear had his heart in a vice. He was remembering his dream – the dream of being burnt alive, and how real it had felt. Barda glanced at him and smiled lightly. "Oh, sorry, my imagination sometimes runs a bit wild… I didn't frighten you, did I?"

"No, no… it's okay." Jarred said calmly. "I just have a slight fear of fire, that's all." It wasn't necessarily a lie. He'd always been wary of fire, ever since he was a child.

"I'm not too fond of it, either." Barda laughed. "Still, you looked a little ill for a moment there. Didn't think a pale guy like you could get any paler." Jarred blushed slightly.

"I'm alright, really. I just have a pretty vivid imagination myself." He tried to block out the memories of his dream, but they kept coming back with a vengeance. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he glanced over his shoulder as he and Barda walked away from the tavern.

There, standing by the gate leading to the rear of the tavern, was Levi, his piercing green eyes fixed on Jarred. There was an eerie smile on the boy's face, and it made Jarred uneasy. It was only once they were out of sight of the tavern that he eventually calmed down, and he had decided that one thing was certain.

Levi was even creepier than Barda.

* * *

_Author's Note: So, who do you think is Levi's father? Internet Cookies to whoever guesses it correctly, though of course it won't be revealed until necessary :P Just another note, Levi is pronounced Le-vee, not Le-vie._


	4. Chapter 4: Chills and Thrills

**Chapter 4: Chills and Thrills**

Sharn Royale was a kind woman, Jarred thought the moment he set eyes on her. She'd opened the door with a gentle smile and it hadn't faded from her face for a second. He stood back, uncomfortable, when she stepped forward and threw her arms around Barda, hugging him tightly. He seemed a little embarrassed by the display of affection, but he accepted it warmly before gently easing away.

"Ah, Barda! It's good to see you, lad." She said happily. "It's been a while since we've seen your face at this door." She seemed to suddenly notice Jarred, as she turned to him with a look of surprise on her face. "And who is this young lad here?" Jarred held back the urge to say that he was not a 'young lad', and simply smiled.

"This is Jarred Hill, Sharn." Barda told her. "He's a private investigator, of sorts. He wants to ask you a few questions, you know, about the manor and… the owners." Now the smile faded.

"Now, master Leordo you know I don't like talking about that horrible place." She sighed. "And I cannot bear to talk about those… strange people." Barda smiled gently at her.

"I know, I know, but you see… Jarred is investigating the manor. He needs to know about what it was like up there before… it happened." He explained. "You know I wouldn't ask otherwise." She looked at him for a long time before sighing reluctantly.

"Alright. But I'll only answer a few questions – and if Endon comes home you'll be out quick, like?"

"Of course." She turned and walked back into her house, and Barda beckoned for Jarred to follow him after her. Her home was furnished quaintly, and just what Jarred would have expected of an aging woman. A picture frame on the mantelpiece caught his eye – it was clearly Sharn, and a man he assumed was Endon, with a teenage boy between them.

"That's my Lief, that is." Sharn told him when she saw him looking at the picture. "He's grown up now, of course. Married now, with children of his own." She smiled.

"He has your eyes." Jarred said awkwardly. Thankfully, Barda came to his rescue.

"Sit, Sharn. Get comfortable." He led her to a large, cushioned chair and sat her down. Jarred took out his notebook and a pen, and quickly jotted down the things Barda had told him outside. He wrote down Sharn's name and noted that she used to work up at the manor. "Shall I get you anything?" Sharn smiled up at Barda and shook her head.

"No thank you, dear." Now she fixed her eyes on Jarred. "Well, let's get this started, shall we? The sooner it is over, the better." Jarred smiled.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Mrs Royale." He said politely, hoping this didn't sound like a witness interrogation. "If there are any questions you don't want to answer, you don't have to. And if you are uncomfortable, don't be afraid to speak up." She nodded, sending an approving smile at Barda, who grinned. "First of all, just to check that my sources are correct," here he glanced at Barda, "did you work at the manor?"

"Yes, I was hired as a maid a few years after the owners moved in." She agreed. Jarred smiled and underlined the word 'maid'.

"I was told that you left shortly after being hired?" She nodded. "May I ask why?"

"When I was cleaning, I kept feeling as though I was being watched. And it was always so cold in that house. It always made me feel nervous, and when I was asked to clean the tower room, I felt this unusual sense of dread. I never went into that room for a second time." Sharn shuddered. "There was something dark in that room, I know it. It made my blood run cold." Jarred nodded, making notes as she spoke. He occasionally glanced over at Barda, whose face had gone solemn as he listened to Sharn speak. "Ever since I went in that room, it felt like I had a shadow hanging over me. I quit a few days later, giving the excuse that I had to look after my son at home."

"Can you tell me about the owners? Who were they and what were they like?" Sharn sighed heavily. "It doesn't have to be too detailed, if you are uncomfortable talking about them. Just give me a rough outline."

"Well, their names were Mr and Mrs Lorde, not married, but brother and sister. He was very deceptive. He seemed to be a quiet, shy man but get on his bad side and he became extremely violent." Sharn told Jarred. He nodded, jotting everything down.

"And what about the sister?"

"She didn't bother to hide herself away like he did. She was openly mean, and very cruel. I think she used to beat her brother around all the time, because he was forever covered in bruises. Either that or he was very clumsy." She shook her head slowly. "I will never forget how she used to stare at you like you were some sort of filth on the bottom of her shoe."

"Do you know where they came from? Anything else about them?" Sharn shook her head. "That's okay. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I know they were very devout to some sort of religion." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "They always talked about some sort of deity that was going to give judgment to them one day. They'd always mutter quietly when they were on their own; as though they were talking to someone we couldn't see. That was another reason I left."

"Do you know the name of this religion?"

"I'm afraid not. They never mentioned what it was, or who this deity was." Sharn shrugged one shoulder, the movement graceful. "They would close up whenever asked about it. All I know is that their deity is some sort of Lord, and they called him their Master." Jarred felt his blood run cold. Flashes of his vivid dream flew past his eyes and he forced them back. "Is there anything else I can do for you? That's all I know, I'm afraid."

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Mrs Royale." He stood up and shook her hand gently. "You've been a great help." Barda rose also, and Sharn smiled.

"Glad I could help you, Mr Hill." She saw them out to the door. "And Barda, do come back again sometime. I'm sure Endon would be pleased to see you again, too."

"I will." He bent to kiss her cheek. "Take care, Sharn." He and Jarred then walked back onto the street, hearing her front door click shut. "Well, was that helpful?"

"It's helped me get an idea of what the atmosphere in the manor would have been like. What Sharn said about that shadow hanging over her… I feel exactly the same, Barda." He put his notebook away and felt a chill run through him. He rubbed at his upper arms, attempting to warm his blood once more.

"It's that room." Barda murmured. "There's something about that room." He watched Jarred closely and stepped closer. "Are you okay? You've gone pale."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jarred tried to smile, but he couldn't shake off Sharn's words about the deity that Mr and Mrs Lorde had worshipped. He remembered the psychotic cry of 'Master' that he'd heard in his dream. He shuddered violently. "I think… I think I need to go and sit somewhere."

"Alright, come with me. I know where we won't be bothered." Barda took his arm and began walking quickly away from Sharn's house. Jarred felt people staring at him as they passed by more houses, and he tried to keep from stumbling as Barda effectively dragged him through the town. They made a sharp right, and walked through a little gate. Jarred scanned the area and realized they were in a graveyard. Was this Barda's idea of a joke? He was freaked out enough as it was! "Come on, it's this way." Jarred allowed himself to be led through the graveyard, towards the back, where he saw a large area was sectioned off from the rest. There was a bench in front of this particular section. Barda led him straight over to it, and sat him down. "I come here a lot." He said quietly. Jarred pondered at this, wondering what made this area so appealing to Barda.

He glanced at the sectioned area and saw two headstones next to each other. As he read the names on the headstones, he guessed why it was that Barda came here often. The one furthest to the edge of the sectioned off area read David Leordo, and the one beside it read Min Leordo.

"These are your parents' graves, aren't they?" He asked Barda in a hushed voice. He glanced at him, and saw that Barda's face was filled with grief. Not quite knowing what he was doing, Jarred reached over and took Barda's hand. "If you don't mind me asking… what happened to them?"

"An accident." Barda whispered. "Back when we had vehicles here. They were driving back from the town. My brother was with them, and… I'm not quite sure what happened, but when someone finally found them, my father was horribly burned, and my mother… well, both of them were dead. My brother was the only one left alive." Jarred felt something wet land on his hand, and noticed that Barda was crying. "I blame myself. I hadn't been there… maybe I could have done something…" He furiously rubbed at his eyes with his other hand. "I was sixteen. My brother was only fourteen. I should have been there!"

"I'm sure it's not your fault. It was an accident." Jarred murmured. "And I'm sure your brother knows that, too." Barda laughed harshly.

"My brother doesn't think anything of the sort, Jarred." He sighed. "He was never the same again." Jarred couldn't help but wonder just how sick his brother was. Was it a terminal illness? "I tried to help him, Jarred, I really did… but by then he was beyond help." Jarred frowned. "Now nothing can save him." He was touched by how deeply Barda cared for his family. He wished that someone would care about _him_ that much. His family had pretty much deserted him.

"Barda… I don't know what to say that would make you feel any better, but I do know that your brother is so lucky to have someone care for him that much." He said honestly. Barda looked at him and smiled.

"Oh you don't know the half of it." He sighed. "Are you okay now? I know bringing you to a graveyard probably didn't help, but I needed to see them again…" His eyes darted to the headstones. "We could go back to the tavern, if you like?" Jarred said nothing. He was admiring how Barda looked with the sun sparkling in his eyes and gently caressing his face. Those sapphire eyes met his, and Jarred felt his whole body tense. Barda's hand shifted and tightened on his own, before tugging slightly. Jarred knew what Barda wanted him to do, and shuffled closer, never breaking eye contact. Barda leant in towards him, and Jarred felt heat flush to his cheeks. Was he really going to kiss him, or were they going to get interrupted again? A gust of wind began to slowly pick up, which Jarred found unusual. Where had this breeze come from all of a sudden?

His mind was quickly distracted from those thoughts when Barda's lips met his. He wanted to pull back at first, but then quickly melted into the kiss, tilting his head for a better angle. Barda applied more pressure once he knew that Jarred wasn't saying no, and brought his other hand up to snake it around Jarred's waist. The wind picked up further, blowing strongly around them and whipping up loose leaves from the floor. Barda's tongue swiped across Jarred's bottom lip and he granted him entry without a second's hesitation. The chill wind suddenly blew harder and tossed up even more leaves. Jarred quickly realized what was going on and suddenly broke the kiss, pushing Barda away and blushing furiously. He frowned in surprise when the wind suddenly dropped and disappeared. That was definitely unusual…

"Why did you push me away?" He turned to look at Barda, who was regarding him with hurt in his eyes. Jarred licked his lips, still able to taste Barda on his tongue.

"I… I just, I mean…" He sighed in frustration. Why couldn't he get his words out the way he wanted them? "It's just so fast. I barely know you, we've only just met and…" He trailed off when Barda lifted one eyebrow. "I'm not some slut, you know. And besides, I've never… never…"

"Kissed another guy?" Barda finished for him. His blush worsened. "Is that what you're worried about? The fact that we're both men?" Jarred nodded slightly. It was true that he'd never kissed another man, or even thought about it, but… he couldn't shake off how good it had felt. "I don't see anything wrong with it. And I never called you a slut." Jarred, if possible, reddened further.

"Yeah, well… you can't just go around kissing people you've just met." He said haughtily. Barda's face saddened slightly at his words, and he felt guilty. "I'm sorry. That kiss was… well… great, but…"

"Do you want another?" Jarred was surprised at the question. He was even more surprised that he knew his answer was yes, he did want another kiss. But he didn't want to give the wrong impression.

"No, I-I'm okay, thanks." He stammered out. That eyebrow lifted once again, and he sighed. Barda could see through him. "Alright, fine. Yes, I want one, but I can't–" Barda tugged him forward by the front of his shirt and their lips met in a hard kiss. Their tongues battled together, before Jarred submitted and gave Barda the dominance he was demanding. Jarred's hands went instantly to Barda's hair, tangling his fingers in the silky black strands. One of Barda's hands snaked up underneath his shirt and caressed his spine softly. He arched into Barda's touch, surprised at how much he was enjoying this moment. He became aware of a strange tension in the air, and wondered what had caused it. The need for air arose and they broke apart, gasping for breath. A single string of saliva still joined their lips together, and Jarred broke it with his tongue. "…Wow." He breathed out. Barda rested his forehead against Jarred's and grinned.

"It's been a while since I've had a kiss like that." He admitted. If Barda felt that strange tension in the air, he didn't show it. "I think we should go back to the tavern." He murmured. Jarred nodded. Making out in a graveyard was possibly disrespectful, and especially in front of Barda's deceased parents. They stood up and Jarred let Barda lead him out of the graveyard. He looked around as they walked, and noticed a gleam of marble hidden behind a thicket of thorn bushes, right at the furthest end of the graveyard. He made a mental note to ask Barda about that later.

The moment they were back at the tavern, Barda led him straight up the stairs and into a room Jarred had not yet seen. As the door was kicked closed and he was shoved up against it, Jarred realized that it was Barda's bedroom. He had little time to observe it, however, as a second later Barda was kissing him again. Jarred couldn't believe what he was doing. How far was this going to go before he stopped Barda? His hands moved up the front of the black shirt Barda was wearing, before running back down and slipping beneath it. Barda's skin was so deliciously warm, and so very soft. He trailed his fingertips up Barda's spine and almost smiled when Barda moaned softly into the kiss. Barda's hands now pulled at Jarred's shirt, tugging it up as a sign that he wanted it off. Jarred broke the kiss, aiming to tell Barda to stop, but found himself helping Barda to remove his shirt instead.

The material was tossed aside carelessly and Barda's lips went instantly to his neck, tongue darting out to lick a trail down to his collarbone. Jarred groaned and began to undo the buttons on Barda's shirt without quite knowing what he was doing. Barda's lips returned to his as Jarred slipped his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. At the first contact of skin to skin, Jarred shuddered lightly with growing pleasure. Why did this have to feel so good? He simply couldn't say no. The kiss was broken as Barda began walking backwards towards his bed, taking Jarred's hand and pulling him with him. As they returned to their previous closeness, a mirror on the wall beside them cracked sharply. Jarred jumped slightly and turned to stare at it in surprise, but Barda quickly turned his head back to face him.

"Ignore it." He murmured. Jarred frowned slightly, but Barda erased it from his face by snaking his arm around him and grinding their hips together. Jarred nodded and lowered his face to Barda's neck, pressing his lips to the flushed skin before biting softly. Barda clung to him tighter, and his heels hit the foot of his bed. He let himself fall backwards, taking Jarred with him so that the investigator was on top of him. The mirror cracked even further, but Jarred ignored it as he had been told to. His lips met Barda's again in a mind-blowing kiss that left him wanting more. One of his hands found Barda's hip through the denim jeans he was wearing, and he slowly slid it around to the front of his jeans. Barda's breath hitched, and the mirror on the wall shattered. The sound snapped Jarred out of the trance he'd been in and he quickly jumped off Barda.

"Oh god…" He whispered to himself. "What am I doing?" Barda watched him in concern. "I… I was going to sleep with you, wasn't I? I was actually going to…" He shook his head, unable to believe it. Barda smiled and crawled up behind him, slinging his arm around Jarred's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"No, you weren't." He told him. "I wasn't going to make you, or anything." He kissed Jarred's bare shoulder softly. "I just wanted to be close to you. If I wanted to sleep with you, do you think your jeans would still be on?" Jarred smiled hesitantly. He was still shaken at the realization that he had been very close to sleeping with Barda, no matter what the tavern keeper had said. Even if Barda hadn't meant for it to happen, he had a feeling that it would have happened anyway. If the mirror hadn't shattered… Jarred suddenly turned and looked at the broken mirror. Barda followed his gaze and sighed. "I suppose I better clean that up…" Jarred looked at him, suddenly suspicious.

"Barda…" He waited until he had his attention before going any further. "Why is it that every time we kiss, or almost kiss, something like this happens?" Barda frowned, and so he went on. "Last night, I was holding a glass in my hand, and it shattered when we were about to kiss. Earlier today, in the graveyard, when we kissed a strong wind began to blow and stopped the moment we broke the kiss, and then there was this weird tension in the air… and now, the mirror cracks and then shatters. What the hell is going on?" Barda sighed.

"It's hard to explain, Jarred." He said quietly. "Things like this happen when I… well, when I express heightened emotions. It always has." Jarred felt another chill take hold of him. Who was this guy? "It's nothing to be afraid of, Jarred. So a few things tend to get broken when I get intimate with someone… but nothing too bad has happened." Now he smirked. "You should see it when I get angry." Jarred wasn't liking this conversation at all. It made him extremely nervous. Barda noticed his sudden tense body and sighed. "And now I've scared you, haven't I? Christy… I knew I should of kept my mouth shut…" Jarred watched him for a moment before lurching forward to kiss him, hard. Barda was surprised to say the least, but he wasn't going to complain. Without warning, Jarred's hand grasped at the front of his jeans and he bit back a moan. At the same time, what was left of the mirror broke into several pieces. Jarred pulled away from Barda and stared at the pieces of mirror.

"You're right… it does it every time." He looked at Barda, whose face was flushed, and his eyes slightly glazed with lust.

"If you wanted to test it out, could you not have tried something else?" He asked quietly. "I probably should have told you that I am quite easy to turn on…" Jarred blushed furiously at his words.

"Sorry." He muttered. Barda fell back onto his bed and groaned slightly. One hand was pressing down on the front of his jeans and Jarred felt his blush spread. He hadn't meant to make Barda uncomfortable, but he had needed to see if what Barda had said was really true.

"Listen… I know I came onto you pretty bad, and I'm sorry." Barda said to him, turning his head so that their eyes locked. "It's just… you're so pretty, I couldn't help myself." Jarred shifted uncomfortably. He'd never been called 'pretty' before. "And there's just this… _thing_ between us. I can't explain it, but it's there and it's making me want you so badly…" Jarred didn't need him to explain it. He knew exactly what Barda was talking about – he felt it too. "Take now, for instance. All I can think about when I look at you is throwing you down and… well, ravishing you." Jarred's jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly recovered.

"I… I think I'd better go and file the notes I took…" He stammered. Barda sighed again.

"There I go again. I've got to learn to _not_ speak my mind." He murmured to himself. Jarred smiled and leant over to kiss him softly – not at all like their kisses from earlier.

"Why don't you go take a cold shower or something? I still need to revisit the manor and there's a couple of things I want to ask you about." Barda sat down and tugged him down for another kiss.

"Sure thing." Jarred wanted so desperately to stay and let Barda ravish him, but he knew if he did he would probably regret it. He didn't plan on staying here long, and _if_ he was going to give his body to another man, he would want it to mean something. And seeing him sat there pouting like some cute little puppy… it was almost too much. He quickly gathered himself together and stood up to collect his shirt and case from by the door. Barda followed him, staring at the shattered mirror on the floor. "Careful, there's bits everywhere." Jarred nodded and slipped his shirt on. He glanced over at Barda, who still remained shirtless. He'd never looked at men in a sexual way before, but Barda was, well… hot. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned to leave. Barda stepped over the mirror and followed him out into the hall. As Jarred turned to go into his room, he grabbed him around the waist and kissed him one last time before wandering down to the bathroom for a cold shower. Jarred watched him go, a daft smile on his face. His hand slowly came up and touched his lips, before he disappeared into his room.

There was no doubt about it – Barda was an excellent kisser.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Oh, I'm sure he is XD Haha. I'm gonna dedicate this chapter to LadyLapisLazuli, because she's such a dedicated reader and because she expressed that she wanted me to hurry up and write this chapter XD In other words, she gave me a firm kick in the right direction XD I also included a little more Jarda action just for her XD Hope you all liked it :P And just because I like to tease... here's a little bit of what's coming up in the next chapter:_

**_"...but I can't, Barda!"  
"You can trust me, Jarred, I promise."  
...and that's when he heard it. The sound that would haunt him forever...  
"You shouldn't go down there. It's not safe."_**


	5. Chapter 5: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

**Chapter 5: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall… **

Jarred much preferred the forest in the daylight than he did at night. He tried not to think about the last time he had walked through these trees, clinging to Barda and terrified of what lay behind him. He glanced to one side at the man strolling casually beside him, a soft smile on his face. Jarred shifted slightly closer to him, close enough that their hands would occasionally bump each other as they walked. Barda smiled and pretended not to notice.

"So, you wanted to ask me something?" He murmured, breaking the silence. Jarred smiled and shrugged.

"Nothing that can't wait." He replied, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. They were approaching the hill, and he knew that soon he would be staring up at the manor house once again. "Do you know the layout of the manor at all?"

"A little. Mostly what I know is based on the outside structure and from looking in windows. I've only ever been inside it twice." Barda told him. "Once when I was young, and then when I came to find you." Jarred nodded in understanding. He knew that this manor was obviously something of a local terror, which meant that not a lot of people would dare to go near it, let alone inside it. Unless he bothered Sharn with more questions, he'd have to find out the layout of the manor by himself. He glanced at Barda again. No, not quite by himself.

They were silent for the rest of the walk up to the manor. Jarred felt that same intimidating fear as he had the first time he had stood in front of the large house, but he pushed it to one side. He was going to avoid the tower this time. He just wanted to take a look at the rest of the place. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, instantly feeling about ten degrees cooler than he had been outside. Barda paused before following him, and Jarred could tell that he wasn't comfortable being inside the manor.

"Any idea where the master bedroom is?" Jarred asked him, observing how Barda kept glancing around nervously.

"No idea. But the staircase is this way." He muttered, edging towards a door to their right. Jarred stared ahead of him at the stairs that he'd seen on his first visit, and then turned to fix his gaze on Barda. "That only leads up to the first floor. Bedrooms are on the second floor." He beckoned for Jarred to follow him. As they passed through the door, a shiver ran through them both, and Jarred quickly stepped forward and slipped his hand into Barda's. "It's just a house, remember?" Barda murmured, repeating Jarred's very own words from his first visit.

"Yeah. Doesn't stop it being creepy." Jarred replied. The warmth of Barda's hand was a comfort to him, and he wondered if it was in any way comforting to Barda, too. They walked through what looked like another dusty living room and out through another door, and then Barda turned them down a dark hallway. Jarred stopped and pulled out a torch, clicking it on. "Why is it so dark here?" Barda smirked.

"No windows in this bit. That's all." He explained, beginning to lead them down into the hall. "There are several black spots in this house. They may have many large windows in the front and back facing rooms, but the hallways are always dark. Especially since we don't have electric lights here." He noticed how Jarred's grip on his hand had tightened slightly, and he smiled into the darkness. The beam of Jarred's torch lit up the rich carpet in front of them, occasionally swinging around to illuminate the walls. After several long minutes, the beam whirled round to a spot directly ahead of them, landing on a ghostly face with haunted eyes.

"Shit!" Jarred exclaimed, almost dropping the torch as he jumped backwards in surprise. Barda tried to keep the smile on his face, and tried to stop his hands from shaking as he took the torch from Jarred. The ghostly image had shocked him, too.

"It's… it's okay." He said quietly. "It's just a painting, Jarred." He shone the beam at the face again, lowering it to show the rest of a portrait, and the frame. "That's the master of the house." Jarred let out a shuddering breath and pressed his face into Barda's shoulder.

"Sorry." He whispered. "I must seem pretty pathetic. A psychic investigator who's scared of a big old house." Barda pulled him into a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Not pathetic at all, Jarred." He murmured. "This is no ordinary house." He turned to stare at the haunted eyes of the man in the painting and tried to ignore the growing feeling of fear and dread from taking over his mind. He hated this house, but there was no way he was going to let Jarred explore it alone. "Come on, let's get moving. We'll be in the daylight again soon." Jarred nodded and – reluctantly – released his hold on Barda, but kept their fingers firmly entwined. They both edged past the life-size portrait and turned the corner into a better-lit hallway. The stairs were directly ahead of them. As they approached, Jarred noticed that two stone figures were perched on either side of the staircase, at the end of the fancy banister. He'd seen similar statues in old houses before, but none like this.

"What are they?" He asked quietly, taking in the eagle's head and strange, lion-like body. The hind legs were similar to a lion's, but the forelegs were more like an eagle's, ending in sharp, wicked talons. There were two elongated ears atop the head, and long, feathered wings stretched out behind the body. He touched his hand to the sharp, hooked beak and turned to look at Barda. "I've never seen creatures like them."

"Griffins." Barda told him. "Part lion, part eagle." He tried not to shudder at the sight of them. "These statues used to be all over the house. There were two either side of the front door back when the owners were still alive." Jarred frowned.

"They're not there now. Stolen?" Barda shrugged.

"One day they were there, the next they were gone." He did not tell Jarred that he believed they had simply _moved_. "Griffins are said to be guardians of treasure. They're usually set up outside gates and doors, as guards." Jarred stepped away from the stone creature and put one foot on the bottom step.

"Well, let's see what these two are guarding." He smiled at Barda, noting that the tavern-keeper looked a little edgy, and tugged him forward by their joined hands. Barda nodded and followed Jarred up the stairs. He couldn't shake off the feeling they were being watched.

They reached the second floor in no time at all, and were pleased to discover that _this_ hallway was lit up by a series of large windows. Daylight. Jarred clicked off the torch with a pleasant smile. They made their way along the richly painted hall, passing by several open doorways. They glanced into each room, but so far all of them had been spare bedrooms. They were looking for the biggest room – the master bedroom. If he was going to find any answers, Jarred knew he'd find them there. They came upon two large, closed doors and Barda smiled.

"I have a feeling this is the room we've been looking for." He said to Jarred with a grin, who nodded. Together they pushed open the large doors, and stared into the room beyond. Mirrors. On every wall, from floor-to-ceiling, were mirrors. A large four-poster bed sat in the center of the room, long trailing curtains draped around all four sides, shielding it from view. Every piece of furniture was pressed up against the mirrors, and the room seemed three times as big because of the reflections.

"Were they vain, by any chance?" Jarred asked with a raised eyebrow. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and – sure enough – aside from the large chandelier in the middle, the entire ceiling was covered with mirrors. Barda stepped into the room and looked around at his million reflections, and felt a new flush of fear spread through him. He'd known these people were weird, but this was too much. Who would want to spend the night in a room where your every action is copied by two, maybe three dozen mirror images of yourself? Arms slid around his waist and he was pulled back into a warm body. "Try not to look at the mirrors too much." Jarred murmured against his shoulder. "Focus on the furniture, or the floor." Barda lowered his eyes and stared down at the lush, cream carpet, and the fear slowly receded. He covered one of Jarred's hands with his.

"Any chance you can do your search quite quickly?" He asked in a shaky voice. Jarred smiled and walked around so that he was facing Barda.

"I'll do my best." He could see that Barda was still uncomfortable, and so he leant up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was only meant to be a reassuring touch, but he found himself leaning further in. Barda's hands trailed up his back as the kiss deepened, and then he pulled back. He was relieved to see that Barda seemed less uncomfortable, and his cheeky grin was back on his face. "Right, I need to look for anything that might lend a clue as to what sort of religion these people followed, and any reason why they might have died up in the tower. Look for religious text, books, symbols, anything you can find. The sooner we search every inch of this room, the sooner we can leave." Barda nodded. "You take the left half, I'll take the right."

"And we meet back in the middle?" Barda asked with a smirk. Jarred grinned at him.

"You're just saying that cause that's where the bed is." They both laughed quietly before separating, Barda to the left, Jarred to the right. Drawers were opened and rifled through, books were checked and put to one side, and every inch of space was searched. They didn't find much at all in the first initial search – Barda located some sort of rosary in one drawer, and Jarred found what looked like a handbook for a cult or something similar, but it was written in an odd language and he couldn't figure any of it out. Both of them were trying desperately not to look at the mirrors that lined the walls, but it was difficult.

After a good thirty minutes, Jarred finally sighed and closed the drawer he'd been searching. He'd already gone through it twice before, looking for any hidden compartments or loose boards that might suggest something was buried out of sight from wandering eyes.

"Okay, I think we've done all we can." He said in defeat. He turned to Barda, who was standing beside the bed, leaning against it. He smiled. "Waiting for something?" He asked, sauntering over to Barda slowly. Barda grinned as he came closer, and reached for him, pulling him against his body.

"Always." He murmured, tilting his head and pressing his lips to Jarred's. He melted into the kiss, as he always did. There was just something about Barda that always left him wanting more. Hands slipped beneath his shirt, trailing patterns over his back, before sliding around to his front and slipping lower and lower. Jarred moaned softly into the kiss as his own hands worked their way into Barda's hair. His breath hitched as Barda's expert fingers slipped into his jeans, and he pushed forward into Barda's hand. They broke the kiss and Jarred's lips instantly found Barda's neck, his tongue trailing over his jawbone before sliding down over his Adam's apple, stopping to trace his collarbone. He slipped one hand under Barda's shirt, but Barda pulled back. "Wait." His voice was thick with lust as he spoke, and he reached behind him to yank back the curtains on the bed. Jarred's mind was screaming at him to stop, but he ignored it and allowed Barda to push him down onto the soft, silk sheets.

Hands pushed his shirt up, exposing his chest. With a lustful smile, Barda dipped his head down, trailing his tongue over every inch of skin. Swift fingers unbuttoned his jeans, and Jarred threw his head back and arched his entire body as Barda's hand slipped inside. He slid his own hands up under Barda's shirt, raking his nails down over Barda's back. Their mouths met in another powerful kiss and Jarred bucked his hips up, meeting Barda's sharply. The tavern-keeper growled low in his throat and nipped at Jarred's lower lip sharply, drawing a tiny amount of blood. Jarred slipped one hand into Barda's jeans–

_Crack!_

They froze as the mirrors on the wall to their left cracked loudly. Jarred suddenly remembered what had happened to the mirror in Barda's room earlier that morning, and he quickly withdrew his hands. He was about to tell Barda that it might be in their best interest to leave when he noticed that his reflection was staring at him. _Right_ at him. In fact, every single one of his reflections was staring at him. It wasn't like when you stare at your own reflection. He wasn't even looking directly at it – but _it_ was looking directly at him. Watching him. He tried to tear his eyes away from it but he couldn't. Barda was looking at him in concern.

"What is it?" He murmured. His voice broke the spell and Jarred turned to fix his eyes on Barda's face.

"The mirrors." He whispered. "They're watching." Barda smiled.

"It's just your reflection, Jarred. When you look at your reflection, it tends to look back." Jarred was shaking his head.

"No. I wasn't looking at it. Not at first." His voice was shaky, and he was trembling ever so slightly. "It was staring at me. _That's_ why I turned to stare back. All of them were. Just… looking at me. At us." Barda turned to look at the mirrors, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you sure? Because it could have been something your mind made up, you know, because of how you feel about this house. Maybe because you expect the house to do something weird and spooky, your mind put the idea into your head that the reflections were staring at you or something." Jarred shook his head again.

"Can we just get out of here, please?" Barda nodded and got off the bed, holding out his hand for Jarred to take. They picked up the rosary and the book that they'd found, and Jarred all but ran from the room. Barda stopped at the doors, aiming to close them, and froze. In every mirror, his reflection was standing, staring at him. He would have shrugged that off as he had done a moment ago with Jarred – after all, he was staring right back – had it not been for the fact that every image of him was pointing. At him. Shaking visibly, he slammed the doors shut. Jarred turned to him, a look of surprise on his face. He noticed that Barda was pale, and shaking, and felt fear rise up in him. "What is it?" Barda walked past him quickly.

"We need to get out. Now." He took Jarred's outstretched hand and they all but ran back down to the staircase. They took the stairs two at a time, and Jarred paused near the bottom to dig out the torch again. He was just about to click it on when he noticed something odd.

"Barda." He whispered. The tavern-keeper turned to him, his eyes questioning. Jarred swallowed hard, and the hand holding the torch trembled.

"What is it?" Barda asked, his voice full of the fear within him. Jarred pointed with the torch to the end of the banister. The griffin on their right was staring at them. It had been facing the other griffin when they'd walked past it before. Shaking, Barda let go of his hand and walked down to the stone creature, and stepped past it. He didn't know what he was expecting it to do – turn its head and follow his movements? It was made of stone. It couldn't possibly move. But he remembered the griffins that had once been by the front door. The griffins that had vanished, seemingly into thin air. Jarred had remained on the stairs, and now he looked to the other side of the staircase.

"Barda." He repeated. Barda turned to look at him, and his blood ran cold at the expression on Jarred's face. "Wasn't there two of those things before?" Moving slowly, Barda turned his head to stare at the empty space where the other stone griffin had been perched. Barda's pulse raced and his breathing quickened in fear. He looked back at the griffin he was stood next to – and if possible, his blood ran even colder.

It was staring at him.

"Shit… shit, shit, shit." He hissed, stumbling backwards away from it. Jarred ran down the remaining stairs and grasped his hand, clicking on the torch and dragging him towards the dark hallway they'd walked through earlier. Barda looked over his shoulder – the griffin was watching them go. Jarred tripped slightly in the dark, managing to steady himself by placing a hand on the wall next to him. He paused to catch his balance properly, and the torchlight illuminated the portrait of Mr Lorde. Before, the ghostly face had been unsmiling, but neutral, the haunted eyes staring at the painter with boredom. Now, his face was twisted in an angry snarl, the eyes fiery with anger. Barda and Jarred didn't waste a second in running down the hallway away from it. They didn't stop running until they were darting through the doorway of the dusty living room, and out into the main hall. Jarred sighed in relief.

"Okay. No mirrors, stone creatures or creepy portraits here." He murmured, and turned to Barda with a faint smile. It faded, however, when he saw the pure fear in Barda's eyes. "Hey… we're okay. We're safe, Barda." But Barda was staring at the door.

"I left it open." He whispered. Jarred turned. The front door was closed. And yes, he remembered Barda leaving it open. Hands trembling, he reached for the door handle. He was dreading it being locked, but to his relief it opened soundlessly.

"Maybe the wind blew it closed." Jarred murmured, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn't likely. There _was_ no wind, and even two stories up, they would have heard the bang. "Let's get out of here." He stepped out into the hot afternoon, enjoying the rise in temperature more than he'd expected he would. It was far too cold in that house. He heard Barda step out behind him and close the door firmly, and he began to walk down the path. When he didn't hear footsteps following him, he turned. Barda was standing on the doorstep, looking down at the space beside him. Jarred felt the hairs on the backs of his arms and neck lift. Sat next to Barda and looking as though it had been there all along, was a stone griffin. It was facing Barda, its head angled so that the eyes were fixed upon the pale tavern-keeper. Slowly, not taking his eyes off the creature, Barda edged past it and down the steps, walking backwards until he reached Jarred.

"It was waiting for us." Barda murmured. Jarred took his hand and tugged him down the path.

"Don't look at it. Come on, let's go." Barda finally turned away from the house and quickened his pace. Jarred felt the urge to look over his shoulder, and fought it for as long as he could. When they reached the bottom of the path, he turned to stare back at the house. The door and the griffin were almost out of sight, and he couldn't see the finer details of either – but the basic shapes told Jarred that the griffin was staring in the direction of the path. _What have I gotten myself into?_ Jarred thought as he forced himself to turn away. He glanced at Barda, who was still shaking and was as white as paper. "I'm sorry, Barda. I shouldn't have let you go in there." Barda turned and met his eyes.

"No." He muttered. "I was not going to let you go in there by yourself. Look what happened the last time – you got hurt, and if I hadn't been waiting for you, you could have been up there for days without anyone knowing what happened to you." His voice was getting stronger as he spoke, which Jarred took as a good sign that he was recovering – slowly. "If you had gone into that room by yourself, seen those mirrors and your reflection… Anything could have happened." Jarred smiled weakly.

"You saw something too, didn't you? In the mirrors. That's why you looked so freaked out." Barda nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you. You were right. They _were_ staring." The forest was silent around them as they walked, but neither paid any attention to it. "Something tells me someone wasn't too happy with us borrowing that bed…" Jarred was pleased to see a grin on Barda's face, and he returned it, squeezing his hand slightly. If the silent forest bothered them, they didn't show it.

"You said you'd only been inside the manor twice before, once to come and find me." Jarred said suddenly. "What about the other time, when you were younger?" Barda smiled slightly.

"That house has always been a symbol of fear for our village, ever since the owners died. Stories have surrounded it, stories of curses and ghosts. Young children would dare each other to run up the hill and see how close they could get before they freaked out and ran back." His smiled widened a touch. "Me and my friends were no different. There was a group of us, ten in total, mostly boys but a couple of girls tagged along too. We used to dare each other all the time. I was the only one who could go right up to the door. I built up a reputation for being the bravest kid simply because I made it to the front door, and even sat down on the steps for at least a minute. That was when I was about nine or ten, so it was only a few years after the house had become empty." Jarred smiled as he listened. In his head, he could just picture a young Barda bounding up to the doorstep and sitting himself down on it defiantly, just to prove he was braver than anyone else.

"So when did you actually go in?"

"When I was fourteen." He told Jarred. "Since the time when I'd been declared the bravest kid in the village, another boy had actually gone right up to the door, opened it, and stepped inside the house. This meant that a new dare had come into place – who could stay inside the manor the longest before they got freaked out and left. Their friends would stand on the path, or down by the forest, depending on how brave they were, and watch. Of course, me and my friends also took part. There were more of us by then – at least twenty, maybe twenty-five, all trying to stay in the house the longest. No one had made it past two minutes by the time it was my turn. I'd chosen to go last, because I wanted to see how long I'd have to stay inside to keep my title." He grinned. "I was planning to show off, of course. Stay a couple of minutes longer than anyone else and walk out as calmly as I walked in, as if I could have stayed longer if I wanted to."

"What happened?"

"Most of the kids had gone inside and sat on the stairs where they could be seen. I thought that wasn't good enough to prove myself, so I walked up the stairs to the first floor." Jarred recalled how they'd gone straight past the first floor on that other staircase, and began to wonder if this past experience had something to do with it. "They kept all their ancient artefacts and historical items on the first floor. They were collectors, you see, and liked to put their collection on display. Bits of fossils and rocks and stuff, even suits of armour – like you'd find in a castle or something. Anyway, I was walking along this first floor hallway, and the walls were lined with paintings of famous people, and of their family. You know how they say that in haunted houses, the eyes of the paintings follow you wherever you walk?" Jarred nodded.

"It's just because they were staring ahead at the painter, therefore they're looking at you no matter what direction you're looking at_ them_." Jarred explained. Barda smiled.

"Yeah, I knew that. But the thing is, those paintings _did_ watch you. I remember looking at them and noticing that the eyes weren't facing forwards, but to the side or looking down or up at something, yet when I walked past them, the eyes switched sides to look at me. They actually _were_ following me. I shrugged that off, of course. I told myself it was all in my head." He sighed. "But then I got to the suits of armour. One either side of the hallway, standing tall and holding a staff in one hand. I admired them for a while before walking past, because they looked pretty nifty to me. Definitely well looked after, I could see my face in every bit of armour. Shined to perfection." He shuddered slightly. "I was walking on down the hall when I heard the clinking behind me, like they were moving. I turned around and instead of holding the staff at their side, they were holding them across the hall, like an arch." Jarred stared at him in surprise. "There was room for me to go through, but I wasn't going to risk it. I turned back around and ran down the corridor, turning the corner into another hall. At the end of this one was a T-junction, with hallways leading off to the left and right, but ending in a wall straight ahead. There were two more suits of armour, blocking off the other hallways. I had no choice but to turn around and go back the way I'd come – there was no other way out. They were forcing me to walk under the arch."

"Oh my god…" Jarred murmured. Barda smiled grimly.

"It took a lot of courage to go back to that arch. Took even more for me to actually go through it. I didn't walk through it – I ran. Ducked at just the right time and ran under it. They reached for me with their other hands, and god I was so scared that they were going to catch me. One of them nearly got hold of the back of my shirt, but I twisted out of the way just in time. I ran all the way back to the top of the stairs and forced myself to calm down. I was still planning on walking out calmly, as if nothing had happened to freak me out. I found out that I'd been in there for nearly twenty minutes, setting the highest record ever. I didn't tell anyone what had happened in there. I didn't want them to think I was a coward." Jarred was in shock trying to take in what had happened. He felt even worse for making Barda go back in there.

"Now I know I shouldn't have let you go back into the manor." He said quietly. "If I'd known about what had happened to you in there, I would have insisted on going in alone." Barda shook his head.

"And I would have followed you in anyway. I said to myself before we went that all I had to do was stay away from the first floor." He smiled. "Now I guess I'll have to stay away from the second floor, too." Jarred didn't return the smile.

"You're not going back in there, Barda. I saw how freaked out you were the moment you stepped inside. I should have told you to leave, wait outside like you did before." He sighed. "I don't think I should go back in there again, in any case. I'm not as brave as you are." Barda stopped walking and turned Jarred to face him.

"Half the time, I'm only pretending to be brave." He admitted. "Because I have to be. For you, for Dakota, for the whole village." Jarred smiled at him, realizing just how truly amazing Barda was when he wasn't being an outrageous flirt. He put a hand to Barda's cheek and leant up for a kiss.

_I'll be seeing you soon, little Jarred Hill…_

He bolted backwards at the sound of the voice in his head. Barda was instantly at his side, face full of concern. Jarred looked around at the forest, finally noticing how silent it was, and he was relieved that they were almost in the village once again.

"What is it? Did you hear something?"

"In my head. A voice…" He wet his dry lips and met Barda's eyes. "It was male, and it knew my name. It spoke with a really distinct accent, too. Like… like yours, actually." Barda's eyes darkened and he frowned.

"Come on. I think we both need a stiff drink at the tavern to calm our nerves." Jarred nodded and followed Barda back into the village, confused and wondering what had caused the sudden change in the tavern-keeper.

Back at the tavern, Dakota was retrieving a new keg of ale from the cellar when she heard a door slam nearby, and dark laughter echoing up from the room below. Shuddering, she hurried back upstairs.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** I bet I know what you're all thinking - FINALLY, an update! Well, you can thank LadyLapisLazuli for this, because she was the one encouraging me to finish the chapter XD I have been wanting to finish this for a while actually, because I love some of the things in it - the mirrors, the painting, the griffins and the suits of armour. And, of course, the expected Jarda love :P BUT of course I have been cruel to you and left you with something new and creepy to dwell upon until the next chapter - who spoke in Jarred's head, why did Barda seem bothered by Jarred's description of the voice, and who did Dakota hear in the cellar? Mwaha. Until next time~  
homesweethomicide13_


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